BWDA
by slowmotion05
Summary: An enigmatic tribesman with something to prove, a hunter way in over her head, a young noble without allegiances or a care, and a powerful warrior without a family. They all have their reasons to be here, but do they coincide with each other? Will they bring them together, or will they make it impossible to cooperate?


The teens's teeth clamped down on the leather-wrapped bark in his mouth to keep from crying out as the village shaman worked the ink-tipped needle into his skin, marking his body with a drawing that would never recede. Shadows danced across the outside of the spacious tent as the fire behind him flickered and popped as it breathed in oxygen and released cinders into the air. The warmth rolled over his hunched form, relaxing his muscles and fighting off the cool air that surrounded them. He let out an abrupt grunt as he felt the needle bite into his back once more before taking a sharp breath through his teeth. As he silently cursed himself for doing so, the shaman behind him let out a low hum.

"You are taking this far better than most," he noted casually as he continued his work. The teen did not respond, unsure of what to say. "You do not need to be so reserved, Basil. Do not forget your company."

He let the bark drop his jaw and nodded. "Of course, Elder, forgive me," he said respectfully before arching his back as his body instinctively avoided the sharp tool.

The much older man let out a chuckle as he wiped a cloth across the most recent line he had just created. "Polite as ever, Basil, but it is not needed. Do remember my gifts."

"Right," he nodded. "My textbooks call it a 'Semblance'."

"A 'Semblance', yes," he mumbled in his baritone voice, "I remember some outsiders saying as such years ago." Basil's features creased, earning another curious hum. "You are nervous?"

Basil cursed himself again for forgetting the man once more before letting out a heavy sigh. "Yes," he answered simply.

"Of your trip in the coming year, yes?"

"Yes," he repeated.

"Has your father mentioned anything?"

Basil's shoulders drooped some before he remembered his place and straightened up, "Not presently. He's... busy."

"That is a shame."

"I don't mind."

"We both know that is not true," the shaman stated simply as he dipped the needle into the ink tray next to him.

Basil hissed in pain when the older man continued his work before asking, "Your 'gift' again?"

"You aren't nearly as difficult to read as you think you are," the shaman answered with a knowing look. "How are your studies progressing?"

"Very well," the teen replied quickly, happy for the topic deviation, "thank you."

"What have you been working on?"

"Grimm studies, currently." He looked back to see the man's face contort in confusion. "Apologies, Beasts of Twilight," he corrected.

"Ah," he mumbled as recognition dawned on his face, "of course, my mistake. Is that subject most fascinating to you?"

"In a sense. My favorite is history, by far," Basil answered giddily. "There's far more in those books than even our own tomes!"

"Do tell," the shaman replied with an intrigued eyebrow raised.

The smile on the boy's face receded quickly and he grumbled, "Father says that I am not to speak of the texts. They're 'harmful' to our people, he says."

"Chieftain, he may be, but he is not the wisest of us."

The boy's ears perked up at that, "If not him, then who is?"

"I'm offended," the man prodded with a hurt expression, "you were to agree and say it was me."

Basil's dull green eyes widened in panic as he turned to look at the shaman. "I-I'm sorry, Elder, I didn't mean to be so..." he trailed off at the sight of his wide grin before frowning, "Very funny."

"I thought it was," the man shrugged. "Now, tell me some of what you have learned or I shall curse you to the Underworld or something."

"No need for that," the teen responded sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, despite the smile on his lips.

The shaman listened intently as the younger man happily educated him of the history of their world. Basil spoke of the Great War, the subsequent treaty and reunification of the four kingdoms, the faunus rebellion and their victory, all without so much as a cough to interrupt. Such words had rarely been spoken inside the village walls, but the shaman lived alone in the Shrouded Forest, allowing the knowledge to spill from Basil's lips in an unbroken stream. By the end, the fire was flickering its last few flames as it strived for survival, though neither made to re-kindle it.

Finally, as Basil finished with a great gulp of air, so to did the shaman. He retrieved the cloth and gently patted down the teen's back before tossing it to the side. He threw his arms out wide and said, "All done. My finest work, if I do say so."

Basil stood slowly and stretched his arms, flexing his back and working out the kinks from sitting for so long. "Thank you, Elder," he offered with a bow of his head.

"Think nothing of it," the man said before standing himself, letting out slow breath as his joints popped from the action. He placed his hands on the teen's shoulders and shook him slightly. "This mark shall protect you from those that would harm you. Never forget to extend that gift to others, should they need it."

"I won't forget, Elder," he promised with a nod.

The older man smiled warmly and placed a hand on the teen's cheek, "I never doubted you will. Should I not see you before your departure, I wish you the luck of the Gods."

Basil could not hold back the appreciative smile, nor the urge to embrace the man. The Elder knew, of course, as he always did, and he welcomed it. Basil released him a few moments later, his grayish-green eyes bright and shining. With one last goodbye, he was on his way back to the village, trudging through the blackened forest.

The twisted branches and tangled limbs of the leaveless trees threatened to block his way, but he proceeded regardless. The cool air chilled his bare skin, but he pressed on. He would be there soon. He looked to the night to help him find his way. _Wait, where are the..._ Thick black clouds hung low over the trees and snow rained down from the heavens. _Snow? At this time of year?_ he thought with a disbelieving frown. He extended a hand out and caught a few flakes before they landed on the soil. They were more gray than white, much to his dismay, but what truly troubled him was that they did not melt against his heat. He ran a finger across his palm, smearing the substance across his skin.

This was not snow.

Before he was even able to process what was happening, his legs were already moving and he broke into a sprint toward his village.

...

A young platinum blonde laid in wait above her prey. She watched it trot by with a grin, a hand creeping toward her hip holster. She retrieved her weapon with a deliberate slowness that belied her excited exterior. With a sharp rasp of steel that made her hold her breath, worried that the buck would bolt, her blade was at the ready. She shifted her position, climbing to her feet and tensing to jump down on it. It had yet to notice her. Good, that made this easy. With one final shift toward the edge, she was prepared.

Her only warning was the hateful growl from behind.

Pure instincts pushed her from her vantage point as a Beringel hurtled toward her, smashing through the wood with incredible strength and causing the tree to groan as it struggled to stay upright. She landed in a sloppy, haphazard roll on the soft, green grass, breaking her high fall enough to avoid breaking something. She picked her head up out of the dirt to watch helplessly as the buck she had been tracking took off into the woods.

"Come back!" she pleaded in vain, whimpering slightly as she lost sight of it. "I only wanted to kill you, cook you up and eat you!" That was probably not the best way to get it to change its mind, but she was too upset to care. Her head plopped back down into the dirt and she let out a frustrated whine. _Life is so unfair..._

The growl from above only made her double-down on her statement.

She was on her feet and diving forward before her brain had even registered the actions, and she was grateful for it. The Beringel crashed into the spot she had just inhabited with enough force to throw sod in every direction. She rolled to her feet, arm raised to block the dirt and grass from hitting her in the face. She glared at the massive Grimm.

"It wasn't enough for you to just ruin my day, was it?" She asked angrily.

A hate-filled roar was her answer.

The beast rushed her, raising its mighty fists in the air and brought them down on her. She slid between his legs as the attack impacted, slashing at its ankles with her tanto before leaping to her feet and driving the blade into the back of its knee. It roared in anger and pain as it collapsed onto one knee, flailing wildly as she clambered atop its back. She drove the blade into its shoulder, between the armored carapace that covered its pecks and trapezius. She ripped the tanto out before plunging it in again and twisting it, causing the Beringel to roar even louder. As she pulled the blade out and readied to plunge it in again, the Grimm reached back with its other arm and snagged hers. She yelped in pain as it tore her off of it and launched her across the clearing, skipping across the grass like a stone on water.

She came to a stop about a hundred feet away. Her arm felt like it had been ripped out of its socket, but she shrugged it off as she climbed to her feet. The Beringel let loose a mighty howl and slammed a fist against its chest before charging her once more. With a cocky smirk, she twisted the hilt of her tanto and clicked it into place. The blade retracted into its handle and two fins extended out from the sides, attached by a string across the ends. She lifted the transformed weapon and pulled the trigger. Three bolts launched from the barrel and sailed toward the Beringel. It lifted its arm to block the attacks, the projectiles piercing the unprotected skin on its forearm, but it was undeterred.

It reared back its other arm and lashed out at her. She leapt into the air as the fist slammed into the soil, firing two bolts at it and cursed when they harmlessly bounced off its chest. It took a step toward her, swinging wildly at her. She rolled under the attack, firing another two bolts into its unprotected side, then backflipped away as it attempted to backhand her. She planted a hand into the ground to right herself and slid to a stop on her feet.

Another roar pierced the air and it barreled down her once more, hands lifted in the air to crush her underneath. She jumped back at the last second, letting the attack crash down in front of her. Once it landed, she dashed forward and leapt onto its arms, firing a bolt into one of its glowing red eyes. The Beringel shrieked in pain and fury and ripped its hands from the dirt. The blonde allowed herself to be launched into the air, flying much higher than she actually expected to. _Oh Gods, I hope this works!_ she thought frantically as she continued to fly higher. She twisted the handle of her weapon again, causing the fins to retract into the handle and the blade to spring out the compartment beneath the barrel.

The peak of her impromptu flight reached, she began to descend toward the earth, wind whipping past her and stinging her eyes. She reached a hand up and pulled down a pair of thick goggles from her forehead and planted them over her eyes, blocking out the wind and allowing her to see once again. She streaked toward the Beringel like a meteor and readied her blade. She jutted her tanto out at the last second, the blade plunging into the Grimm's unprotected neck and dragging the cold steel through the sinew and muscle. Her momentum carried her through the front, leaving a gaping wound and pratically decapitating the massive Grimm.

The beast was left standing for a few more moments as it seemed like it had yet to process what had just transpired. Before long, it collapsed to the ground in a crumbled mess, leaving little more than a smoking mass before disappearing completely.

The young blonde was left alone in the clearing, chest heaving and face dripping with sweat, salty streaks trailing down her dirt-caked face. Eventually, she climbed to her feet and half-staggered, half-stumbled toward her discarded bolts. She began collecting them and placed them into a small pack on her lower back that was attached to a brown leather belt that hung limply on her hips.

"I _hate_ Grimm," she grumbled to no one in particular as she leaned back, stretching her lumbar. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips as the joints audibly cracked and releasing some of the tension.

She suddenly whipped around, tanto held at the ready, following the sound of a twig snapping behind her.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing, Opal!" the familiar young man cried, recoiling in fear at the prospect of being skewered.

Opal dropped her arm a second later and let out a breath, though whether it was of relief or irritation, she was not quite sure. She retracted the blade and holstered it all the same before crossing her arms across her chest.

"Where the hell were you? Weren't you watching out for Grimm?!"

The man only stared at her, confusion etched across his face.

"What?" she asked finally, hands lifted in the air.

"What happened to our dinner?"

Well, now, it seemed _two_ things were dying today.

...

The air was stale and humid. Choking smoke filled the massive room and the wooden floorboards seemed all but rotten, threatening to give way under the slightest pressure. The company was far less than savory, bandits, thieves, cutthroats and the like, the type of people to be packing at all times, just in case they might need to "defend themselves" or convince someone why they needed their wallet more than they did. To most, a place like this was a shit-hole at best, and the sight of a double-homicide at worst.

To one particular young man, however, it was heaven.

"So, where else have you been?" the ten seated on the bar stool swooned, finger curling around one of her locks of brown hair.

"Since you asked so nicely," he cooed sweetly, a finger coming to rest under her chin, "I'll tell you." He then struck a dramatic pose, beer bottle in one hand, imaginary sword in the other. "I've been to the darkest depths of Vacuo, fighting Grimm and bandits alike! I've seen the highest peak of the snow-capped Atlesian Belt!" He cut a swath through the air, as if to riposte an attack. "I've fenced with the heir to Merlot Industries himself," he boasted before thrusting forth, "and won!"

The woman gave him a round of applause, as did the blonde behind him.

"But, I will admit," he began, his tone losing its grandiose edge for something resembling melancholy, "there's one place I've never been."

"Where is that?" the pair asked simultaneously, concern saturating their voices to an almost disgusting degree.

The young man waved a dismissive hand, eyes locked on the rim of the beer bottle, "You'll think I'm silly."

The women on either side of him leaned in, thick eyelashes batting at him. "Oh, please tell us!" the brunette cried as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We promise we won't laugh!" the blonde added quickly, running a finger along his collar.

"Oh, I can never disappoint you two," he smiled innocently before turning his attention to the hazy ceiling. "The one place I've never been... is _Shambala_!"

The pair looked at each other in confusion, then turned back to him. "What's that?" they asked in unison.

"Shambala!" he cried again as if that were all the explanation needed. "You know, the Garden of Eden! The Promised Land!" He raised his arms into the air, as if it were right there in front of him and all he had to do was reach out. "Paradise!" he finished dramatically before slinking against the bar between them and running a hand through his shoulder-length, thick black hair. His arms came to rest on their shoulders as he pulled them in close. "I may have never been to paradise, but I believe you two can help me," he cooed softly, his lips brushing against the brunette's.

Just before they touched, however, "Oi, _asshole_!"

The young man looked up in a strange mix of frustration and confusion, gaze coming to rest on a large man, knife strapped to his hip, scar across his face, and a VERY angry expression. "Whuh?" he managed to slur out distractedly.

"That's my bird, ya right bastard!" the man shrieked in his face.

He turned to the brunette, whom shrugged. He looked back at the man and jerked a thumb to his other cling-on. "The blonde?"

"Yes!" he howled as he, somehow, against all laws of physics, leaned even closer to him without making contact.

"Alright, take her back then," he shrugged with complete disinterest.

The man recoiled, seemingly shocked at how quickly he gave in. "W-Well, I want th' other one, too!"

The young man quirked a brow at him. "You can't," he answered lamely.

"And why th' 'ell not?!"

"Because you already have one. You can't have two."

"Ya were tryin' ta get two, too!"

"I was trying to get two, _as well_ ," he corrected the man, much to his slightly confused ire. "And that's because I can."

The man folded his beefy arms across his broad chest. "Why th' bloody 'ell can't I, then?!"

The young man gave a weary sigh and turned back to the man, face flat and bored. "Because I doubt you're man enough to handle even one, let alone two, hence why your 'bird' was here with me."

The man's face swiftly turned the most interesting shade of red the young man had ever seen. Suddenly, his hands shot out and roughly gripped the younger man's shirt and pulled him in close, "Ya got a right pair on ya for sayin' that ta me!"

"Listen, 'mate'," he drawled out, "I let you take your woman back, just be satisfied with that. Look, I'll even buy you a drink." His hand fished through his pocket and he pulled out a small stack of plastic cards. "Or two, if you want."

The man seemed to consider the offer for more than a few seconds before emphatically shaking his head. "Ya gimme that stack, and I might consida leavin' yer pretty face th' way it is."

The black-haired man became increasingly aware of the crowd that had begun to gather the moment he flashed the lien, "Sorry, but that's a 'no can-do'. You get the drink or nothing at all."

"Sounds like a shit deal ta me."

"No drink then," he said as he quickly pocketed the money, "that's alright, we'll take a rain check. Now, if you could just let go of me..."

"That's a 'no can-do', _mate_ ," the man said, his tone dangerous and sharp.

"Ha, that's clever. Seriously, let go and you won't have to go home with any broken bones."

The man gave an evil grin that made his scars crease. "I'd love ta see ya tryyyy-AAAAAAH!" he shrieked in pain as the younger man twisted his arm with a sickening _crack_.

He kicked the man in the back of the knee, knocking him down as he kept his hold on his awkwardly-bent hand. "I gave you a fair chance to walk away. Consider this your punishment," he explained threateningly.

"Who th' bat-buggering shit _are_ ya?!"

The young man gave him a smug grin before leaning in closely. "Remember this," he hissed into his the man's ear, "my name is Dorian Gra-!" He was cut off abruptly as something solid connected with his back, causing him to yelp in pain and practically collapse onto his captive. He whipped his head around to find a different burly man, his face covered with a sloppy beard, frowning disappointingly at the wooden stool in his hands. "Did you just hit me with a _chair_?!"

"It din't break," the bearded man lamented as he inspected the stool for any damages.

"Of _course_ it didn't bloody break, you cretin! This isn't a mov-"

 _SMASH_

Dorian collapsed back onto the bar, a hand coming up to rub his now-soaked face and hair. "Is everyone determined to be an absolute bellend today?!" he shrieked.

That was the final straw, it seemed, as the crowd descended upon him in an instant. Dorian yelped in panic as fists, feet, bottles and the occasional chair was thrown at him and he leapt onto the bar top. He began frantically kicking, his foot smashing into his assailants' faces. Amidst the scrum, however, he caught a glimpse of his cane, the diamond on the end shining ever-so-faintly as what little light that managed to make it into the dog-pile glinted off of it. He frowned deeply.

"You're all insane!" he cried as he leapt into the crowd, throwing whatever elbows, punches and kicks he could while he was dragged down.

He drove his fist into a man's cheek before throwing a random elbow behind him, knowing it would hit _someone_ at the very least. He received a fist to the nose and a knee to the gut in return before he finally managed to work his way through the crowd. He stumbled into what little clearing he had before whirling around in time to see a man rushing him. He dodged the wild punch and retaliated with a left cross. He smiled at the solid connection, enjoying the audible _crack_ that it made.

Someone decked him from the side, causing him to stagger into another attacker, whom rammed his fist into his gut and doubling him over. Dorian growled before slinging his head up, smashing the top of his head into the man's chin. He ducked another punch, countering with an uppercut, before tossing the brawler over his shoulder into the crowd. Someone leapt onto his back, arms wrapping around his and their fingers interlocking behind his head. He let out a curse, or would have, had it not been for the right cross he received for his efforts. Another fist plowed into his gut before a jab caught him in the nose.

Dorian growled in anger and pushed off the ground, using the man's strength to support him. He deflected a punch with his left knee and lashed out with his right leg, his shoe colliding with the assailant's chin. The moment his feet touched the floor, he reached back and worked the fingers interlinked behind his neck apart before throwing his head back into his assailant's nose, breaking it with ease. He gripped the man's arm and lurched forward, dragging him across his back and into the floor.

Dorian then leapt onto a table, eyes searching frantically for his cane again. _Aha, there you are!_ he thought as he spotted it knocked over by the bar. He jumped forward, using the crowd of drunkards as a pathway, caring little for their indignant squawks as he did so.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed victoriously as he landed next to it. However, his hand was not quite able to reach it as he was suddenly hoisted into the air. "Whoa-ohh! What the-!" he barely managed to squeak out before he was unceremoniously dropped onto the bar top, his body haphazardly smashing bottles and dishware.

A fit of dry coughs escaped his lips as he fought to keep breath in his lungs. His glazed over steel-blue eyes gazed up at a towering behemoth pretending to be a human. His eyes widened in fright before the disguised Ursa's massive paws clamped down on his throat. He gasped and sputtered desperately as his legs flailed against the bar top. His left hand pushed against the beast man's face while his right reached for the cane, which sat just out of reach. With an angered gurgle, he slammed his fist into the human-bear hybrid's cheek, but whom did not appear overly concerned that he had just done so.

Dorian's left hand dropped below the bar in search of a weapon he could use while his right occupied itself by repeatedly punching his potential murderer's face. The bartender, who was currently cowering behind the bar, slapped at his hand indignantly. Dorian frowned at the mustache-clad man and gave him a quick jab to show his displeasure.

He went back to rooting around for a weapon as his vision began to cloud at the edges. He was going to pass out soon if he did nothing. To his luck, and immense delight, he managed to snag the neck of a bottle instead. He swung as hard as he could and was rewarded with an explosion of glass shards and alcoholic mist raining down on him as the bottle erupted on his assassin's right profile. The man recoiled in pain, releasing the younger man from his iron grip.

Dorian hacked and spluttered as he fought to bring air back into his lungs. He slowly and painfully rolled off the bar top and landed on his hands and knees, his neck regaining its original shape after contorting the shape of the man's disturbingly large meat-hooks. His hand clumsily gripped his cane and dragged it up as he used the stools and bar to support his weight. He turned to his would-be killer.

"C'mon then, you overgrown git," he taunted breathlessly.

The towering man seemed all too happy to oblige, ignoring the bleeding cuts on his face.

Alcohol was truly amazing, was it not?

The fist hurtled toward his face, promising nothing except for pain and a possible impromptu nap, but he received neither as he easily deflected the attack with the side of his cane. Dorian countered by striking the man of the underside of his chin with the head of the cane, knocking a tooth free from the man's mouth. Another attack, a wild haymaker. It was easily ducked, the cane colliding with the man's gut, causing him to double over. The diamond struck the man's cheek a moment later, cutting his skin open. A counter was thrown, another punch, aimed at the shorter man's face.

Dorian gripped both ends of the cane as he dipped to the side, the attack passing harmlessly by. He trapped the arm between his own and the cane before hooking the arm around the shaft and jamming it to the side, bending it at the elbow and pushing it the opposite way into a V-shape. A sickening _crunch_ pierced the air as the man howled in pain.

"Shut up," Dorian grunted and smashed the cane over the back of his head. The man pitched forward and slammed his face into the table in front of them before collapsing in a broken heap.

"Anyone else?" The only sounds in the room were that of the victor's heavy breathing and the sound of broken glass tinkling under their feet. No one dared to respond. "That's what I thou-"

Dorian cut himself off as he whirled around, hands a blur as he pulled on the head of the cane, unsheathing a long blade from within the shaft. He lashed out and a panicked yelp followed a second later.

"Nice try," he offered to the bartender, the snark in his voice coming back to him, "but I'd appreciate it if you dropped the shotgun."

The man swallowed thickly and tossed the firearm in his hands to the side without so much as a nod, no doubt afraid the slightest movement would end with the sharp tip grazing his Adam's apple plunging through his throat.

"Thank you," Dorian smirked victoriously, but something below the bar caught his eye and he leaned forward. The bartender subtly leaned back from the blade, his confidence in the intoxicated man's motor control clearly somewhat lacking.

Dorian's hand rooted around behind the bar before he let out an excited, "Aha!" and pulling a bottle of whiskey up with him as he straightened up. He then sheathed his blade in one fluid motion and pivoted on his heel back to the crowd currently giving him as wide a berth as possible.

"Everyone," he nodded to them before his gaze settled on the brunette from earlier, hiding from the fighting under one of the nearby tables, and he cocked a smile at her, "Miss."

He took a moment to straighten his soiled gray, three-piece suit before he turned toward the door and took a step.

 _CRASH_

The last thing Dorian remembered from that night was one final excited declaration, "Hey, I did it this time!"

...

A soft tune hummed through the humid forest air, carried on the breeze that passed through the luscious green foliage and swayed the branches to and fro. The small dirt road was slowly being reclaimed by the forces of nature as roots and vines crawled across the path. It cut through the trees, dividing the forest in two. The dilapidated, moss-covered fence that sat on one side offered the most minimal protection to any that traveled its length. Many did not attempt it, for it offered no guarantee of safety, be it trader or convoy.

The relative lawlessness of this road enabled Grimm and bandits alike to roam freely, claiming any they saw fit. The connection it made between two large settlements mattered little as they fostered a far more secured route between them.

For that reason, among many others, the small girl walked it frequently.

Her shaggy red hair was pulled back in a braided ponytail, leaving her bangs to flutter freely about. She wore a loose fitting, light blue qipao, a white dragon embroidered on the back, and black pants, the cuffs stuffed into her lightweight black boots. Despite the jaunty tune she hummed, her piercing blue eyes scanned the treeline for any possible threats, snapping to the slightest concealed movement in the underbrush. Much to her delight, they found none. Or, they would not have, at least.

"You fink you can just walk away afta everyfin' you pulled back there?!" came an angered cry from nearby.

 _Of course,_ she thought with an eye roll. With a disappointed sigh, she fastened the brown leather sheath that was draped across her back tighter to her form and followed the voice.

The girl pushed her way through the underbrush, grunting quietly as branches whipped back into her face and vines clung to her legs. She cursed lowly as her top became tangled up in the grasping fingers of thick flora. A few more oddly specific threats and upset accusations reached her ears before she finally freed herself and sauntered into the clearing, offering a badass opening line. At least, she would have, had her foot not caught a tree root that had so rudely burst through the ground at the last minute.

A startled yelp escaped her lips before she was greeted with a mouthful of grass and dirt, the combination of which was not at all pleasant to the taste buds. She spluttered and coughed as she picked herself back up and patted down her clothes, then reached up to pick the twigs and leaves out of her hair, grumbling and growling all the while.

Someone nearby cleared their throat.

The redhead paused mid-twig removal and looked up to see a small handful of men staring at her with what could be best described as utter bewilderment. She flicked the twig away and looked to the large bald man currently cornering another man, about her age, against a tree, machete in hand. She waved a hand, earning a confused, "Bwuh?" in response.

"I don't think you should be doing that," the redhead replied, pointing at the blade currently invading the younger man's personal space.

The bald man looked down at the machete, then at the young girl, then back up at his victim, seemingly expecting some kind of explanation. The young man just shrugged. His head turned slowly as he looked back to her. "'Scuse me?" he asked finally. There was no edge in his voice, nothing to suggest he was making a threat. He seemed genuinely confused.

"That," she pressed, gesturing to the blade again, "I don't think you should be doing it."

"What is it you fink I'm doin'?"

"I think you're either robbing him or killing him. Either way, you shouldn't."

"Do you know this trouser snake?" he asked, gesturing to younger man pushed up against the tree.

The redhead regarded him, examining his features. He was dressed well, a grey three-piece suit, though the clean image was somewhat undercut by his thick, shoulder-length black hair. "No, I don't," she answered finally.

"Then why d'you give a shit 'bout 'im?"

The girl shrugged, "Because I don't think what you're doing is right. No matter what he's done, he doesn't deserve this."

The victim spoke before his attacker could, "You don't know that. I could be a complete bellend."

"What 'e said!" the bald man nodded.

The newcomer tilted her head curiously at him. "You're not even trying to defend yourself? Do you want to die?"

"Not particularly, and especially not to these ugly mugs," he answered, making sure to spare the bald man a disgusted look, "but that doesn't change the fact that you could be risking your life for an absolute bastard and you would never even know."

"What 'e said!" the man echoed.

What a strange character...

"Uh... thanks for the warning, then... I guess," she replied before reaching back to her sheath and procuring her weapon: a bronze rod, about as long as the length of her forearm to her fingertips. "Regardless, I can't let you kill him."

The younger man let out a weary sigh and shook his head. "Listen, girl-"

"Ai," she corrected him.

"-Ai," he said, clearly biting down on his irritation, "I appreciate the gesture, but you do _not_ have to worry about me."

"Yeh, 'un," the bald man taunted with a smirk, "'e don't need you. Why don'tchu run along before things get nasty."

The redhead shook her head, "That's not gonna happen."

An explosive sigh burst from the bandit's lips. "Oi, Sage," the bald man barked at one of his companions over the sound of his victim slapping a palm against his forehead, "'escort' the li'l lass outta here, would'ja?"

"Sure thing," said man replied before making his way over to her. Ai shifted the pole in her hand subtly, watching the man tower over her with an almost amused expression. "Get movin'," he ordered gruffly, hand reaching out to grip her shoulder. "Don't make me 'urt y-!" He was cut off as the pole extended out with blinding speed, the end crashing into his face. The man's head reeled back, crimson gore gushing from his broken nose, and he collapsed to the grass. "M-My nose!" the man hollered in pain. "T-The bitch broke my nose!"

The man to her left was upon her in an instant, right hand freeing his knife from its sheath, left grasping for her. Ai twisted toward him, staff deflecting the hand before bringing it back around and slamming it into his ribs. She pirouetted, dropping low and striking another attacker in the legs and sending him crashing to the ground before rolling to the side. Ai leapt to her feet and twirled the staff in her hands, clipping the last attacker in the chin before snapping it across the first man's face. It came to a rest tucked underneath her arm as the last man dropped like a sag of bricks, her stance wide.

The four men around her lay crumpled on the grass, cradling their various injuries and letting out low, pained groans. She allowed a victorious smirk cross her lips, only to wipe it away a second later as her piercing gaze settled on the last bandit, whom still pressed the young man into the tree, despite not paying a shred of attention to him. His attention was completely focused on the redhead before him.

"I didn't want to hurt them," she affirmed calmly, though she maintained her combat stance. "Please, let him go and walk away. We don't need to fight."

The bald man let out an amused chuckle. "Coulda fooled me, luv. You got guts, I'll give you that." He finally released his victim's collar and settled it on his waist as he faced her fully. "I'll give you one more chance to leave. I'd say you take it."

Ai released a controlled breath before declaring, "I can't do that."

The man only shrugged. "Suit yourself, luv," he said nonchalantly before brandishing the machete and leveling it with her head. "But don't say I didn't warn you!" He suddenly charged her, clearly aiming to overpower her physically.

Ai sidestepped the first stab and ducked under the follow-up slash. She countered with a strike to the knee, but he pushed through it, bringing the knife down on her head. The blade connected with the staff in a flash of sparks, Ai grimacing slightly under the man's power.

"You have aura. Are you a huntsman?" she asked curiously, despite the strain in her voice.

He smirked down at her. "Somefin' like that. Aura's somefin' else, innit?"

With a grunt of exertion, the redhead shifted the staff to the side, allowing the knife to slide off to the side. She delivered a sharp heel kick to his ribs before ducking as he countered, the blade sailing overhead. Before she could counter, his other hand clamped down on her hair and pulled her in. Ai let out a surprised gasp as his knee drove into her gut, forcing the air from her lungs and almost causing her to drop her staff. The man crashed the pommel down on the back of her head, batted her weapon away as she attempted counter before his free hand grasped her by the throat and roughly hoisted her into the air.

Ai coughed and hacked, feet dangling as she was raised above his head. She cried out as his blade bounced off her aura before kicking a leg out and blocking the second attempt. With her other leg, she delivered a sharp kick to the chin, then wrapped her arms around the arm currently choking her. She hoisted her body up and wrapped her legs around the arm before jerking her body downward. Her body weight, combined with the sudden movement, pulled him to the ground with her. They collapsed in a heap of wild curses and angered grunts before Ai managed to slip from his grasp and roll to her feet.

She caught sight of her staff on the far side of her opponent, but before she could retrieve it, the bandit clambered to his feet and thrust at her. Ai deflected the attack above her and drove her palm into his chest, forcing him back. She dodged a diagonal slash, countering with a punch to the ribs, then kicked a leg out from under him, knocking him down to one knee. He stabbed at her, but she batted the attack to the side and dove forward, rolling over his back and landing on the other side. She could hear him trailing just behind her, his massive frame thumping through the grass. With one final slide, she gripped the staff in both hands and twisted around, striking low.

The surprise attack connected with the man's legs, throwing him onto his back. He managed to roll to the side and into his feet, barely avoiding her devastating axe kick, and thrust once more.

There was a flash of sparks as the attack was deflected to the side. Ai performed a change step, jutting her back foot forward and swinging the staff upward at an angle. The end smashed into the bandit's chin, throwing his head back, before she whipped the staff back across the man's head, throwing him face-first into the dirt. She twirled the staff and brought it back to rest behind her back. Her chest heaved as she scanned the battlefield, sweat rolling down her brow. The group of men were all down for the count, but she whirled around at the sound of a sharp whistle.

"I wonder where these pillocks got alcohol like this," the young man said aloud to no one's benefit.

Despite not having a clue who he was, Ai was not surprised in the least to find him rummaging through the unconscious men' belongings. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"What does it look like?" he asked as though it answered her question. To his credit, it sort of did.

Ai rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her bangs. "Are you okay?" she asked as she made her way over to him.

"Hm?" the young man paused mid-search and looked to her. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Because these guys were going to kill you."

He looked around at the men in varying stages of conciousness and shrugged. "I'd have been fine." Ai tilted her head at him and gaze him a curious look. "What?"

"You seem awfully nonchalant about almost dying," she noted flatly.

"This isn't my first rodeo. Trust me," he said as he went back to pinching anything valuable out of the bag, "I wasn't in any real danger."

"Is this a situation you find yourself in often?" she asked, half out of curiosity, half out of a desire to tease him.

"More than I'd like to admit," he answered honestly.

Ai nodded slowly as her eyes slid over to the defeated bandits, not entirely sure how to respond to his statement. She approached the bandit leader and crouched down, inspecting his attire curiously. It was old and ratty, held together with numerous buckles and belts. A leather shoulder pad was strapped down on his left side. His lackeys were dressed much the same, all with varying degrees of cheap armor attached to their persons. She hummed softly.

"So," the young man began as he approached her, the bag slung over his shoulder, black cane in his other hand, "Ai, right?"

"Yes," she nodded as she stood up and faced him.

"Well, despite not needing it, thanks for your help, Ai," he said as he extended a hand to her.

The redhead shook it and smiled at him. "You're welcome. Can I ask what your name is?"

"You could," he said as he crouched down and began rifling through the leader's coat. He let out an amused chuckle at her silence, seemingly sensing her displeaure at his standoffish response. "I'm kidding. I'm Dorian."

"Ah, well, it's good to meet you," she offered, shaking her head at his blatant theft. "Why did these men attack you anyway?"

"It's kind of a long story, so I'll spare you the details. Basically, these men were upset that I'm better at poker than they are."

"They were angry that they lost their money?"

The man hesitated before saying, "More or less."

Ai crossed her arms and tilted her head, "More? Or less?"

"More than less, admittedly."

"Mhm," she hummed, an amused smirk crossing her lips. "Is that all?"

"Well, there is the small problem that they thought I cheated them."

"Did you?"

"You can't cheat a cheat. Or, you can, technically... look, point is, you shouldn't feel bad for these men."

"I never said I did."

"Glad we're in agreement, then," he stated before standing, apparently satisfied. "So, where were you headed before you came across us?"

"Into town," she said, gesturing toward the direction she had come from.

"Town, eh?" he mumbled aloud, scratching his chin. "Mind if I tag along?"

Ai retracted her staff and sheathed it before shrugging, "Not in the slightest."

"Brilliant!" he declared, smiling brightly before gesturing forth with his cane. "After you."

What a strange character...

* * *

 _And the first is finished. It's probably pretty clear, but this was intended to be each character's trailer, of sorts. I debated if I wanted to do it as four individual chapters or one longer one, but I felt that having four small chapters wouldn't be great for the pacing of the story, as well as make it kind of hard for people to get into the story early on if they think every chapter would be that small. Generally speaking, my chapters are anywhere from 7k to 15k. Also, if you're curious, no, I don't have an update schedule. My work hours, as well as my own levels personal motivation are way too erratic to give you a specific time frame. It'll range from once or twice a month to once every few months._

 _If anyone from my other story are here, know I haven't abandoned that, I just hit a bit of a snag (my own massive f*ck-up because I'm dumb and stupid and an idiot), but I thought of this and thought the ideas I came up with wouldn't fit very well with my other story. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, I have another story, but it isn't my best work. I kinda went in half-cocked. I had a lot of ideas floating around in my head, wrote them down, then had to figure out how they fit together afterwards. I had no coherent plan and the story has gone through a lot of re-shaping, despite the fact that there are only 8 chapters. I'd appreciate if you gave that story a shot, but the early chapters are definitely rough as I was very clearly still finding my feet and I can't fault you if you can't make it past those early chapters. I think it really gets better around chapter 4._

 _This story is definitely way more thought out, as are the names, team, and Semblances/weapons. I'm still working on the actual plot, but I've got a few ideas floating around. Nothing concrete quite yet, though. Regardless, I'll be taking time to actually plan out each chapter, what I want to introduce, what I want to happen, who I want it to happen to, etc. ahead of time, so hopefully, this story won't quite be the clusterf*ck my first story is._

 _I figure I should actually talk about that story now..._

 _So, I'll talk about what I think will be the biggest one: Dorian Gray. Yes, I realize what the name is and where it comes from, but I didn't choose it just for because, I swear. Obviously, in the actual book, Dorian isn't a fighter, but that just comes with the adaptation. No point introducing him as a character in RWBY only to reveal he can't fight (Jaune notwithstanding, considering how it's a huge part of his character). I will say this is my first attempt at making a likable egotist, so you'll have to let me know how it worked out. I tried to avoid making him super edgy/cringey, so I hope it worked._

 _The chapter take place about a year (give or take a few months) before they join the huntsman academies. Each section could probably be seen as taking place in chronological order, ranging from a month to a few days between, though it really isn't all that important. Opal's section was definitely shortest, mostly because there really wasn't much I could do with her yet. Each section actually ended up being way wordier than I meant._

 _I have no idea if my fight scenes are coherent in the slightest. I've tried to avoid going into too much detail that it gets boring, but at the same time, I have no idea if the descriptions I do give make any sense. They make sense to me, given that I'm the one writing it, so I know exactly what it's supposed to look like, but I don't know if it makes any sense to everyone else. I'd love to hear what you guys think._

 _I think that's all I wanted to talk about. If I think of anything else, I'll get it next chapter._


End file.
